Third P.O.V
The Musutafu train was frequented by many; highschoolers, office workers, dropouts, you name it. So it would be understandable that the amount of people that could fit into a train carriage would be overcrowded to begin with, right?
Add to this equation, a teenage girl.
Normal enough.
Now, consider a teenage girl who has a wing-based quirk that allows them to stretch to a length of six feet each.
The girl managed to squeeze herself through the carriage doors before they closed, clipping of a small sliver of wax from her over-sized wing. She fell forward blindly, bouncing on one foot in an attempt to balance herself from the unexpected pull of the door with arms spread and flailing wildly.
An eye cracked open. Then two.
A huff of a relieved sigh left her as she straightened herself up, looking around to try and find anyone who had possibly managed to catch her in the act. Once she was sure everybody was minding their business, she set off from the station immediately, her legs working from muscle memory to get her to her destination.
Every four years she had to repeat this process and despite what people said, it didn't get easier.
The way to the office always became crowded with people. If it wasn't that, there was a villain attack and the surrounding blocks had to be closed.
It seemed like the sun shone on her today of all days though, as the large rush of people headed to their jobs were still on the train, leaving the streets clear for her to spread her wings.
...
..Figuratively.
The form she was given once she entered the building was the same as always; age, date of birth, name, quirk, blood type, etcetera, etcetera.
Why they couldn't keep a record of this, she didn't know, but what she did know was that she needed this license more than she needed her father to stop hoarding trinkets.
The little piece of rectangular plastic she'd receive would allow her to use her quirk in public, though moreso gave her permission to use it as a form of transport. The office was popular with people who had quirks like her in this district. No more crowded, public, noisy transport.
She left the building with a dazzling grin on her face, the months of built up stress finally melting from her shoulders at the thought of her license arriving in the mail soon.
The girl returned home on foot in an attempt to catch the cool air of the oncoming evening, making a stop in a convenience store on the way to grab a few boxes of sugar cubes she'd made a note to buy earlier.
The setting sun behind her was warm on her back and wings as she walked with the plastic bag jostling against her leg every few steps she took, relishing in the quiet of the evening with the odd sound of a car somewhere in the distance accompanied by her humming.
Everything was calm. Everything was quiet.
That was until a bush came running towards her from behind.
Her and the bush were sent sprawling, knees scraping against the path with her bandaged hands curling upwards so her knuckles would get the brunt of the damage, her forearms getting in the way of her head and the ground.
Dazed for a moment, she sobered up at the quiet groan from behind her.
She turned to find a messily, green-haired boy -not a bush, thankfully- fallen on his behind with the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. He hissed in pain when he tried to squeeze his hands, and that's when the girl noticed the inflammation on the palms.
Not again, goddammit.
She scurried to turn around and slid onto her knees, not caring for scrapes as she reached for the boy's hands, which were clearly burnt and covered with a paling wax.
The ordinary-looking boy flinched harshly when his hands were taken from him, by a girl no less. He snatched them back not a moment later and clutched them close to his chest which was covered by an 'All M' t-shirt, scooting backwards slightly away from the pretty girl with a cranberry blush drenching his entire face.
"I- uh I need to look at your hands if I'm going to help you, sir.." Her voice was honeyed, sweet and slowly dripping from her mouth like a confection. It put the boy in more of a dazed and flushed state if anything, leaving him a stuttering mess.
"I'm- I-i'm fuh-fine, thank-thank you!" He yelped unintentionally with a prominent stutter from nerves, stock-still and attempting to cover his face with burned hands.
"No no, it's my fault that your hands are in such a state! My quirk burned you, so I'm the one at fault!" Her insistence was admirable as determination shone in her eyes, which looked as if they had captured a clear summers day sky in them.
Her wrapped hand was held out gently, expectantly as the other rummaged around in her skirt pocket, eventually pulling out a small metal tin that was decorated with a honeycomb logo engraved on the lid.
The boy hesitantly pressed his hand into hers, wincing at the pain when he curled his fingers in a recoil from their contact. He watched as she opened the tin to reveal a pale coloured salve, pressing the exposed fingertips of her fore and middle finger into the cream and collected a generous helping of it.
The pinch of pain he felt when she slathed the cream onto his red hands was much less than he expected there to be. He had experienced burns before from his childhood friend when they had spats and knew the pain of putting an alcohol-based salve on them, though this was nothing comparable.
This concoction cooled his boiling hands and sent numb tingles through what was previously stinging flesh, even going as far as having a flowery, lavender scent to it as opposed to harsh ethanol.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts of the salve that he had completely missed the girl introducing herself, but had tuned back in just after.
"I'm so so sorry for this, it happens more than I'd like to admit so I carry around this salve with me in case someone unfortunate gets caught in the crossfire of my wings." She sounded genuine, nervous even when she spoke as she made sure the cream made its way into every crevice of his hand before she moved onto the next one. The tone of her voice had guilt written all over it through her rambling, like the boy was about to snap at her and reject her apology.
"N-no, I'm the uh, I'm the one who ran in-into you! I should buh-be apologising!" He squeaked with a frantic shake of his head that sent his curls everywhere while she massaged the oils into his hands with her thumbs gently.
This situation could've seemed intimate to any passer-by as the two teen's sat on the ground with their hands clasped together, but the girl had been in this situation so many times that it felt routine at this point.
The boy however did not share this experience and was mentally dying from his close proximity to this girl who smelled faintly of mint and fresh soil; an earthy base scent with a kick of cold to it.
"I feel like I have to know my umpteenth victim's name now, hehe.." Her chuckle was nervous as she wiped the residual salve into the tips of her fingers as moisturiser, shoulders bunching as she grinned sheepishly.
"It-it's Mid-Midoriya Iz-Iz-Izuku!" His nerves ran wilder than hers as she continued to speak to him. Most girls in his junior high avoided him like the plague, due to him being quirkless and his friend Kacchan constantly making him the laughing stock of the class.
But now there was a random, pretty-looking girl willing to talk to him? And she wasn't dared nor paid to as a joke? Izuku could've died right then and there before he could even make it to the beach to train with All Might.
"Mido-ri-ya. Miiiidooori- nah that doesn't sound right. Can I call you Izuku? It's really bold, I know," She dragged out his surname as it rolled weirdly on her tongue for an odd reason. She'd only just met this boy and was already asking for permission to address him by his first name. She noticed Midoriya had turned a sickly white.
Reaching forward with a concerned frown, she tapped against his freckled cheek to snap him out of his stupor and it indeed did the trick.
"YOU CAN CALL ME IZUKU." He flinched and regained the colour to his cheeks very quickly, letting out a squeak once more at a louder decibel as he froze up into a tense position again.
The nameless girl leaned back on her thighs with an apologetic smile, clasping her hands together loosely on her lap. A warm aura radiated around her, Izuku swearing he could see flowers emanating from her person as she beamed at him joyously, the sun shining on her face and highlighting the apples of her cheeks and a faint dimple on her right cheek.
She shook her head slightly, her bangs waving slightly from the movement and she unfurled her hands and reached to place them under Izuku's elbows to help him stand with her.
Once they were stood, the girl dusted the bushy-haired boy's arms and shoulders free of dust, still smiling all the while. She grabbed her bag full of sugar cubes with one hand and let the handle rest on her wrist, lifting the tin of salve with the other and placing it in Izuku's hand, making sure to curl his fingers around the tin so he had a good grip on it.
Giving his knuckles a pat, she took a step back from him, more of the sun lighting her person as his shadow no longer blocked her.
"It was very nice to meet you Izu-kun. Even if it was under unfortunate circumstances." The laugh that followed sent blood flushing to his cheeks again, enough to make him light-headed.
"Vuh-vuh-very nice to muh-meet you too!" It seemed all he had said to this girl was through loud yelps and shouts while he became stiff as a board. Girls like confidence, so why couldn't he be confident the one time a girl was willingly talking to him?
During his inner spiel, the girl had left with a gentle squeeze to his aching arm and a smile. All he could see when he zoned in was the glistening of her freshly wax-coated wings as they swayed behind her, their weight obvious from the way they drooped.
She was much too far for him to shout and he was already late to his training with All Might and couldn't waste any more time.
He could only hope and pray that they'd run into each other, not literally next time.
Because he'd forgotten to ask for her name again.